Breaking John
by SLPikachu
Summary: A virus slips out of a medical research facility and spreads fast! Five years after his oldest son is killed, John continues to cope with it while having to deal with a twelve year old girl who reminds him so much of Dean.
1. Prologue

Breaking John

Prologue

John Winchester crouched behind a wall with his eldest son crouched across from him, their guns clutched tightly in their hands. He pulled out the adapter, checking it to make sure there was plenty of ammo before looking around the corner. A werewolf was hovering over the remains of a young college student the Winchesters couldn't rescue in time, ripping their heart out. John nodded over at Dean, giving him the signal. At the right moment, Dean moved cautiously, nearing towards the werewolf as it ate, viciously.

John followed, closely behind his eldest son, eventually slipped up to surround the werewolf and when the time was right, father and son leaped out of their hiding spots and started shooting. The werewolf had looked up right as it caught a whiff of them and moved just in time. The three of them played a small game of cat and mouse, each with their guard up.

Dean moved around the warehouse they were in, cautiously, keeping his pistol ready. But he was suddenly ambushed as the werewolf leaped out of its hiding spot when Dean passed by. Dean was scratched up by its razor-sharp claws. John heard his son cry out in pain and dashed to where they were, getting there in time to shoot the thing.

Dean held his arm that was holding his gun. Thanking his father, he rose to his feet and walked over to where the werewolf lied on the floor, nudging the body with his foot. Nothing happened. "Well," he breathed, "it's dead."

"Wish we could have saved the guy, though," John said as he looked over at the student across the room. He couldn't help think about his youngest son who was away at college, unprotected. Seeing this young man did not help his nerves one bit.

"Yeah, but because of us no one else has to suffer the same thing," Dean pointed out with a shrug.

"True." John moved his eyes from the student to the werewolf. Nice guy, too. He was a college professor a month from retirement, guess retirement same early for this guy. "Come on, let's get this place cleaned up before the cops show up."

Father and son cleaned up the warehouse before heading out to where the Impala and John's truck were parked and drove back to their motel to rest, grabbing a medium pizza on the way.

John fell into one of the chairs at the motel room's table. He reached out and grabbed a beer. "I heard about a job in Jericho. We should get a couple hours of sleep and head out before daybreak." John twisted the cap off and tossed it onto the table before taking a drink.

Dean was sitting across from his father, already starting in on his first slice of pizza, his arm bandaged with a dirty, old rag. He unfolded a newspaper with one hand and opened it to a page he had marked. "Says there was activity going on in New Orleans, sounds like it could be a vengeful spirit," he said, looking it over.

John took a long swig of his beer before he said, thinking the two jobs over in his head. "Why don't you take the job in New Orleans?" he finally suggested.

Dean stared up at his father, surprised. "Alone?" he asked.

He shrugged, "You are twenty-six, now. You don't need me backing you up when I know you can handle it."

"You sure?" Dean kept glancing down at his arm where the werewolf had scratched it.

John breathed in through his nose, quietly. He didn't want to send his eldest son out into the world alone to hunt a vengeful spirit but it was true, John knew Dean could handle this by himself. "Yeah," he finally nodded. "Go on, son."

Dean nodded, looking down at the newspaper. He glanced back up at his father to say, "Be careful, Dad."

John was staring the floor. "You too, son," he told him.

Something caught Dean's eye on the same page of the newspaper, quickly reading it over. "Hey, did you hear about this?" he asked, picking the newspaper up in both hands.

"What?" John asked, looking up at Dean.

"Says there's a virus going around that slipped out of a medical research facility," he read.

"What kind of virus?"

Dean shrugged, "Doesn't say but they're asking civilians to stay alert and wash hands, and all that other crap. Like that's really going to help." He tossed the newspaper aside and finished his pizza slice.

"That's stuff just there to scare people anyway," John shrugged as well and reached for a slice himself.

Suddenly, a siren was heard off in the distance, alerting the men to the edge of their seats.

"What is that?" Dean asked, quickly hurrying to the window.

"Sounds like the military," John said, knowing those sirens anywhere from his time serving.

"What is this? The sixties?" Dean said, sarcastically, looking out the front window. "Shit!" He backed away, pulling out his pistol.

"What?" John asked.

"They're checking in all the rooms," he responded.

"Quick, let's…" But before John could finish, the door busted open and several U.S. Army soldiers came through the doorway with their rifles raised. It happened so fast, John could barely make everything out. He tried to make sure Dean was all right but the soldiers bounded on them, asking them questions about being infected.

Dean's instant reaction was to fight back before he knew who or what they were there for. He just saw him and his father under attack and tried to pull out his gun. Just as he got it out someone noticed the blood-soaked rag on Dean's arm.

"He's infected!" one of the soldiers yelled.

"What? No, I was attacked by a wild…" Another soldier quickly raised his gun. When John saw the gun pointed at his son, he made to pull out his own but felt a blunt force against the back of his head, followed by a gunshot. Everything went black.

When John came to, it was broad daylight as the morning birds chirped from outside. John lifted his head from the floor, sitting up, slowly, holding his hand to it, trying to remember what had happened. The events from the night before came running back to his mind and he suddenly remembered his eldest son.

Quickly looking around the room, John noticed Dean lying nearby, not moving. He moved over his son. "Dean, Dean," he tried to wake him, gently slapping his face. But Dean didn't move. John was just about to lose it. "No, no, no. Dean. Dean, wake up. Dean!" He checked the young man over, his eyes catching the dried blood on his chest first. "No, no. This can't happen," John mumbled to himself and checked for a pulse. There was none.

John pounded the floor next to him with his fist, trying hard to hold back the tears. He was a man. He wasn't about to cry. But the pain of losing his firstborn son was too much. Masking them in, John rushed to his feet and called 911. Even when the paramedics arrived, they couldn't do a thing. Dean was gone.

Once Dean was given an official hunter's burial, John had to make sure his youngest son was alright. He drove all the way to Stanford, only stopping for gas. Once he got there, the dorms seemed deserted and something didn't feel right to John.

Hurrying up to his youngest son's apartment, John saw the door was wide open. He rushed inside and checked everywhere but no one could be found. The apartment looked like it was just deserted. John didn't know what to do or think. His wife and now, his oldest son were dead, and he wasn't even sure about his youngest son, if Sam was alive or not. He had to find out though…

**I have chapter one finished but right now I just want to get the prologue out to see if anyone is interested in this story. Please tell me what you think whether its good or bad!**

**(Chapters won't be this short, I promise)**


	2. Chapter 1

Breaking John

Chapter 1

**Five years later:**

John pulled his truck up to the faded, blue two-story house and parked in front of it. He slid out of the driver's seat and walked to the tailgate, lowering it to retrieve the supplies he had recently picked up.

Ellen had wandered outside onto the porch when she saw him pull up and wandered down the steps. "Need any help?" she offered.

"No," he replied, holding a plastic grocery bag in each hand as he walked up to the house. "I only have the two."

Ellen walked the way she had come when John walked by. The two of them wandered inside the house where Bobby, Jo, and Ash were waiting.

"Find anything while I was gone?" John asked when he set the bags on the kitchen table.

Bobby had followed them in. "A friend of mine called me. I haven't heard from him in ages but he says he has a package for us to watch over. That's its valuable."

"Did he say what it is?" John asked.

He shook his head. "He can't come all the way down here to drop it off so one of us will have to meet him halfway."

"Hold on there. You're not seriously considering picking up this package?" John questioned.

Ellen shrugged, "Why not?"

John looked between Bobby and Ellen, "We don't even know what this thing is. You say you haven't heard from this guy in ages and all of a sudden he calls you to watch over a package that could be dangerous for us? No thanks, we have important matters to deal with." He returned to taking everything out.

"John, it's been five years," Bobby reminded the rugged man. "If we haven't found him yet…"

"Enough. Sam could still be out there," John spat back. "There's a chance."

"Bobby's right, John," Ellen agreed.

John turned on the woman. "If it were Jo out there you would feel the same way." He turned his body back to the table. "I'm not giving up on my son." John then continued fishing everything out.

No one said anything. The house was dead quiet except for the hum of Ash's laptop. Finally, Bobby said after a long moment, "Okay, we'll keep looking." He let out a deep breath. "But in the meantime, any volunteers to go pick up this package?"

"John and I will," Ellen volunteered.

John wasn't thrilled to be unwillingly volunteered. "I don't have time to go pick up some idiotic package."

"So you have any leads on where to find Sam?" she shrugged at him.

"Rufus sounded like the package was valuable, he said it could be the answer to finally end this virus," Bobby added.

John barely glanced up at him from the bottle of alcohol he was holding. "Can it bring back my son?" he asked, bitterly.

Bobby closed his eyes, sighing, deeply. "No, but it might save others. Hell, if Sam is alive, it could keep him from the virus."

John moved towards Bobby's face, inches away, "Sam _is_ alive. I'm gonna make sure of it."

"Let's just go see what this package is, John," Ellen told him. "Maybe it'll lead us to Sam or we'll find him on the way."

John looked over at Ellen then looked away. He thought it was useless to go after a package they didn't know what it was. As far as they knew, it could have been a trap. It did seem strange that an old friend Bobby hadn't spoken to in ages just suddenly looked him up, asking to take of a package.

The past five years hadn't been easy for John either. The world he once knew, or thought he knew, was different and not in a good way. The usual monsters hunters hunted were the least of their problems. Dean had been right about the virus. No one contemplated it either. Once a person was infected it was only a matter of time before they turned on those they loved.

It was later John and the others learned that a team of medical scientists were mixing and touching chemicals that should have never been messed with, and to make matters worse, the "guinea pig" they used had escaped and it wasn't long before the young man had bitten someone and started the whole mess.

John sat behind the wheel of his black pick-up truck, not thrilled he had let the others talk him into going to pick up the package. It was possibly unnecessary and a complete waste of time. Taking the back roads, John and Ellen stayed alert for any sign of movement. By the time they reached the city where Rufus had told Bobby he'd meet them in, it was nightfall.

At the city limit sign, Ellen suggested they leave the truck there and traveled the rest of the way on foot in fear of attracting any kind of infected. John agreed and pulled off to the side of the road into a back alley. Once they were stocked on ammo and their weapons, John and Ellen made their way to the location Rufus would be meeting them.

Since streetlights did not work anymore, flashlights had to guide them through the dark. It was quiet but it didn't help their nerves any. Any sudden sound could alert not just the infected but other people as well. Since it all began, it had become every person for themselves. No one was safe and no one could be trusted.

John ducked behind an abandoned car, kneeling on one knee.

Ellen followed close behind. "What is it?" she whispered, quietly.

He put his finger to his lips to hush her and shut off his flashlight, motioning for Ellen to do the same. John reached behind him and gripped the handle of his pistol as he heard rummaging around some trashcans and old boxes.

They waited for what seemed like forever. Finally, the rummaging turned into a loud crash, followed by a cat's cry before the silhouette of one scurried out of it and ran off. Both John and Ellen released their breaths they had been holding, in relief before cautiously continuing on, making sure to duck behind something when they thought someone or something were there.

The streets were deserted but were lined with several abandoned cars and trucks. Trash littered streets as well, including the sidewalks. After walking for forty-five minutes and going deeper into the city, they did end up spotting an infected. It sounded male as the silhouette limped across the street.

"If there's one, there's probably more nearby," Ellen whispered over to John, who agreed.

"It's rare you see these suckers alone," he added, also in a whisper. John watched the infected for a minute before looking around at his surroundings.

Suddenly, they heard a hissing sound behind them as if a snake could choke. John and Ellen turned around on the spot to find another infected standing there, its head leaning to one side. Its clothes were rotted and torn in several places, and did not smell like a thing of roses. The skin looked worse than the clothes.

"Shit," John muttered and quickly tried to reach for his gun, aiming it at the infected. The bullets blasted into flesh. Once the infected dropped dead, John and Ellen ran for it. The gun was basically a foghorn and they knew more would be on the way.

The two of them dashed down the street, blasting their way through swarms of infected coming towards them. One of them had grabbed onto Ellen, reaching in to rip off her flesh with their teeth until John shot it.

"You okay?" John asked, holding onto her arm.

Ellen nodded, trying to catch her breath, "Yeah, just go."

John didn't think twice. Whatever this package was it had better be worth all of the trouble it was causing them to get there or John was going to be pissed.

Eventually, an open door caught John's attention. Hoping nothing was already in there, he led Ellen inside and the two of them slammed the door shut. While John held the door shut, Ellen pushed a table in front of it before they both backed away.

John turned his flashlight back on, looking around the room as he tried to catch his breath.

"You think we're safe here?" Ellen asked.

John shrugged. "I'm not sure," he admitted.

The infected were still trying to get through the door, scratching and clawing. It lasted for fifteen minutes before it started dying down and soon, it was quiet again. John loosened his grip on his pistol and when he was sure they were in the clear he placed it behind him and hurried over to a small window to look out. Nothing was at the door anymore but the streets were full of infected.

"Damn it," he muttered out loud.

Ellen asked, "What?"

"There's still a lot out there. If we try and leave, they'll swarm again."

"Now what?"

John walked passed her to search around the place. "I have no idea," he told her. "I knew this was a bad idea. Now we're trapped in here for who knows how long. And for what? A damn package that'll explode once we touch it?"

"Bitching isn't gonna help the matter, John. For all we know, it could actually be a good thing for a change," Ellen argued.

John scoffed. "Nothing good has ever happened, not even before all of this started."

"We're alive, aren't we? That should count for something," she pointed out.

"Yes, but for how long, Ellen?" he asked. "I say we find our way out of this place and save ourselves. Forget this package or whatever it is."

"We came this far, John. Don't you think we should at least hear Rufus out?"

John turned around on the spot, "We don't even know if this Rufus is alive, or if we can trust him. Why are you all so set on getting to him and this package?"

"Because if what he says is true, we might have a chance of ending this whole mess."

John made to open his mouth to say something more but decided against it and turned back around.

"Where are you going?" Ellen called after him.

John turned around again to walk backwards, "To see if there's a back door we can sneak out of."

Ellen just shook her head as she watched the man walk away. John was one stubborn goat, she knew that for sure.

John pushed on a door, slowly, reaching back to grip the handle of his gun. He peered around it, carefully to check for any kind of life. It was quiet and dark, making it hard for John to see. Sliding inside the half opened door, John carefully pulled out his gun and slowly made his way inside, peering around the darkness. There was no sign of movement at all so he reached back with the other hand and flipped on a light switch beside the door to check to see if the lights worked. Sure enough, they came on.

The lights lit up the room, revealing a dust-covered, old office. There were three chairs, one knocked over on its side. There was a Dell computer coated in dust. Bookshelves lined the walls, full of books and frames with pictures and diplomas inside them.

John crept over to the only window and returned his gun behind so he could open it. Having some difficulty, John put all his strength into it. Right as he gave one mighty push up, a voice startled him and turned on his heel, pulling his gun back out. Ellen was standing there.

He relaxed his body, dropping his head, "Jesus, Ellen. You scared the hell out of me." John lowered his gun and replaced it behind him once more.

"Sorry, next time I'll knock," she replied, sarcastically.

John scowled at the woman before turning back to the window.

"Find anything?" she asked.

"We might be able to crawl out this window. Give me a hand, would ya?" John pushed on the window. Ellen walked over and stood beside him, doing the same on the other side. Both of them gave it all they could and pushed the window up. John pulled out his knife from his back pocket and ripped into the window screen, tearing it away before peering outside, using his flashlight. "Doesn't seem to be anyone out there," he inquired and climbed through. Once his feet hit the concrete, John turned around and helped Ellen out before continuing.

Crossing the deserted parking lot, John shined his flashlight up at a stoplight where it showed a street name. "Basin Avenue, Crest View shouldn't be that far."

Ellen took a map from inside her jacket and unfolded it to check for the right direction. "Crest View is four blocks that way," she nodded to the left of them.

"Let's go then. We can't stay in one place for too long, not with those infected nearby."

Ellen folded the map and put it away, following closely behind John, stopping every chance they got behind a car. They continued on when the coast was clear, staying alert of their surroundings. For a couple blocks it seemed too easy for them, seeing nothing until they got to the third street, which made them duck behind a tan, family minivan with one of the side windows knocked out.

John peered around the front of the vehicle, spotting several infected. Some were moving around, limping while the rest stood there, making their choking hiss sound.

Ellen was crouched right behind him. "Getting passing those nasty suckers isn't gonna be easy," she whispered, quietly.

John was too busy, looking up and down the intersections to respond. "If we shoot right through them again, it'll alert more."

Ellen looked behind them, back the way they had come. "We could try backtracking and try to take a detour," she suggested.

"That maybe our only option," he agreed, looking down the street to his far left. "Come on." John bolted back the way they had come, staying low as he could. Ellen followed. Not far back, there was another alley. Shining his flashlight down it first, he checked to make sure the alley was empty and made his through, ducking behind some trashcans and dumpsters.

He stopped at a corner of the wall they were walking along and cautiously checked around it. Standing in the middle of the next alley was an infected. John couldn't tell the gender but it was pudgy around the middle.

"Damn, we got one of those guys," he muttered enough to where only Ellen could hear him. Watching it for a moment, he guessed it had its back to them. Reaching back in his back pocket, John told Ellen to wait there. Carefully and quietly, John crept up behind it.

The infected didn't move except its head to lift it before dropping it back down after a couple seconds. It didn't even notice John come up behind. Ellen watched from where John had been standing, gripping the corner of the wall.

John grew closer and closer. When he was right behind it, he grabbed the infected around the neck and immediately shoved his knife into its rotting left shoulder. John pulled it out and threw it on the ground, smashing its skull in with his foot before the infected could finish its cry.

Calling out to Ellen in a low tone, she hurried towards him and followed John out of the alley and dashed across the street, into another alley, ducking behind a dumper. Some infected were alerted but thankfully they didn't see or hear where John and Ellen ran to.

"That was your plan?" she questioned John.

"Hey, it got us across, didn't it?" he told her.

"We may as well of shot it and ran," Ellen pointed out.

John continued on. "I was hoping to kill it before it could cry out."

"And what gave you the idea that could have happened?"

John ignored the woman. They eventually hit a chain-link fence, stopping. He looked up and down both sides of him and around the alley. Behind him to his right was a dumper. Hurrying over, John pushed it towards the fence with Ellen's help before climbing on top, turning around to give her a hand up. John stood up and lifted his right leg over, doing the same with the other leg. He then jumped down and waited for Ellen to do the same, only she climbed down a little before jumping the rest of the way, spotting her in the process.

Once the two of them were on the other side, they made no haste and hurried forward until the alley ended and they came to Crest Avenue.

"Bobby said Rufus would be hiding out in a blue, windowless van," Ellen whispered as they looked up and down the street.

"That's comforting," John said, sarcastically. They were crouched at the end of the alley. He peered up and down the street where there were several vehicles but none of them could see a van. The night sky was lighting up little by little as some of the morning sun was rising. Unfortunately, not fast enough.


End file.
